Goodbye 3 & 4
by Unholy Typhoon
Summary: This one is 'R' cause there's a little more blood...deathfic...
1. Default Chapter Title

Goodbye 3  
  
Greetings and hello to all of you obsessed digimon fans out there. This fic is the second in what I intend to make a series. The first fic was, of course, between TK and Yamato, and the second fic wasn't really a fic at all, it was a correction, but keeping in the spirit of series everywhere, this is titled "Goodbye 3". So anyway, if you're here, but you haven't read "Goodbye", THEN GO READ IT! But if you've already read it, then continue......  
  
  
Disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me, it is the property of some rich, Japanese cartoon maker that I have never met, nor ever want to meet, blah blah blah blah blah.  
  
  
Perhaps this time, they were not going to complete the task before them. It had been three-and-a-half years since they had defeated the Dark Masters, and yet, they had still not found a route home. It was beginning to seem futile to actually go on anymore, because they weren't going to find anything. Oh yes, he had tried to be helpful, he suggested that they use Myotismon's gate but when they arrived, what had happened you ask? Well the whole thing was destroyed. Another by-product of the evil that the Dark Masters had spread. Then the routine of name-calling had started. Though for Izzy, it was old news, he had heard all of it before and didn't even bother to listen to the group as they yelled at him for wasting their time. What time? They had all the time in the world. The various threats and insults fell upon deaf ears, for Izzy had lived through six years of hell in school for being a nerd, a geek, and these times were no different from those times. And yet, Izzy thought, they hurt a little bit more, coming from friends. Well, former friends. So they wandered for a little bit longer, and a little longer, and a little longer, until it had gotten to the point where you could almost taste the tension in the air. Up until that point, everyone's complaints and insults had gone straight to Izzy, not even caring that they were hurting his feelings anymore, just wanting someone to vent their frustrations at. Well, they had gotten their scapegoat at least, so the rest of the group felt happy, but not Izzy. Izzy had just gotten worse.   
  
Izzy had never really been very good in the first place. The fact that he was adopted didn't hurt as much as say, the times that his father would get drunk and yell at Izzy for being such a lousy son, and an adopted one at that, but it still hurt. So, Izzy wasn't very good to start out with. Then again, if he couldn't find the love that he needed from his "parents" why couldn't his computer give his solace? Because I'm a pathetic human being. Look at me, all that I'm good for is analyzing the digimon that we fight. If it wasn't for that, they'd ditch me in a second. No one needs a second-rate, parent-less wimp hanging around. What would be the point? What's the point of anything anymore? Why bother going on? We just wander and I get yelled at, nothing more. It seems pointless to go on.  
  
By the time Izzy had figured this out, the entire group had exploded into a huge fight. Everyone was insulting everyone else, and general chaos ruled the group. The only thing that really kept them together was the simple fact that they had been together for such a long time. After a long period of this, however, Izzy was just sick of it and made a suggestion. It was late one night, after a standard day of wandering, yelling, and wandering and yelling some more. "Perhaps we should split up the group." Izzy said, sitting by the fire, poking it with a stick. Tai heard him and seconded the motion. Joe said that maybe it would be good to spend some time apart. Sora said that as long as everyone knew that they were going to be all right, they should do it. So it was decided, and they split up the next day. No one knew, however, that Izzy had his own motivations for doing this.  
  
He was sitting on a rock, not really paying attention to anything, fingers flying over the keyboard of his laptop, deciphering some hieroglyphs he had overlooked earlier. It had been two years since the group split up, and Izzy was, - well, Izzy was bored. His mind was not on what he was doing; however, it was on all of the good times that the group had shared together. Like the time Patamon had digivolved for the first time and saved them from Devimon. The time that he and Megakabuterimon had defeated that freak of nature with the alternate universe, the one that had taken his curiosity, Vademon. The time that Megakabuterimon had protected Angewomon from Lady Devimon's Black Wing attack. They were all good memories, but then of course, the bad ones overshadowed them all. Izzy remembered all the names, all the insults, all the put-downs his former "friends" had spit at him, and well, they hurt. They hurt more than just about anything else had hurt before. And although it was a close call, Izzy figured that the insults hurt worse than his wrists, the night he attempted suicide. It had been after a particularly rough session when his father had come home as drunk as he would ever get. It had been the last time his father had touched a drop of alcohol, and also the first and last time that his father had beaten him. But, Izzy supposed, it wasn't so much the beating itself, it was the fact that my fath- no, my legal guardian, hit me. If one was to look closely, you could probably still see the scar from that encounter. It was just above the hairline on the side of his head. His "guardian" had hit him with a socket wrench, resulting in stitches and lies to friends, (if he'd had any friends) for Izzy, and a support group for his father. The following night, Izzy had tried to kill himself.  
  
Izzy sighed and closed the laptop. Sometimes memories were too painful, even for him, Mr. Perfect, who could solve any problem, fix any bug, and impress everyone he met with his intelligence and charm. Izzy slipped off his gloves and looked at them in the pale moonlight, noting how well they concealed the truth. Two white lines, both at about the same spot on each of his wrists, both filled with memories of that night. But those memories, even he refused to remember. He sighed again, and put the gloves back on. Some memories, he thought, you just have to say goodbye to. He lay down for the night, thinking that tomorrow, he would go off in the direction he had heard voices that day, maybe he would meet one of his old friends.  
  
Izzy walking towards where he had heard the voices the other day, but already he was beginning to regret it. Memories of all of the digidestined yelling at him were flooding back to him and he was getting depressed. He was thinking that perhaps he should turn around when he heard screaming. He changed his mind about turning around, but the screams were far-off, so he might not reach there until tomorrow. He was wondering if he should just set up camp right now, or continue walking when he heard another scream. This time, though, it was words, which sounded something like "TK NO" and as the echo died away, Izzy was sure that TK was dead, and Yamato had found him. "TK, Yamato..." Izzy whispered. If what Izzy had heard was as bad as he thought it was, TK was probably dead by now, and because of that, Yamato would probably be dead as well soon. Izzy decided that it was about time to try and find TK and Yamato and offer Yamato a shoulder to cry on. But unfortunately, before he could reach them, night fell and Izzy was taken over by sleep. He rose the next morning and set off again, but only to be assaulted by yet another yell. This one was also words, saying; "I'M SO SORRY TK!" Izzy knew what that meant. Yamato had just taken his own life, as if to try and make up for TK losing his. Izzy started running, hoping blindly that maybe, just maybe he could find Yamato and stop whatever he was doing to himself. He came to a clearing though, and he knew he was too late. Twin pools of crimson lay next to each other in the clearing, one containing the body of a young man, his chest covered in blood. The other was of an older man, with his wrist's slashed. Izzy saw this and something inside him snapped, and he started to cry. After years of abuse, after so many names and insults and put-downs, after the separation of the group, and now, after the deaths of two of his best friends, the dam that Izzy had so carefully built within his own mind shattered.  
  
Izzy had never really been very good in the first place. He had dealt with much, and now, like he had all those years ago, he got much worse. He ripped the laptop out of his backpack and, screaming, smashed it against the ground. It shattered into thousands of shards of plastic and circuitry, littering the ground. He grabbed one of the larger ones, and with one fluid movement, ripped off the gloves that he had worn for so long and slashed both of his wrists again, along the other cut lines, painting his forearms crimson. As Izzy began to lose consciousness, he smiled, and wondered: Am I going to be a memory that you can say goodbye to?  
  
And perhaps, it would be better if you could just say Goodbye.  



	2. Default Chapter Title

Goodbye 4  
  
Please review, cause I didn't get enough reviews for Goodbye 3. Also, if you could be good enough not to flame me, it would be appreciated, as this fanfic is written in honor of a good friend of mine who just passed away. I was remembering him today and this fic just sort of wrote itself.   
  
Goodbye 4  
  
Koushiro-kun. The name meant a lot to him, though Koushiro himself couldn't ever know it. And after what had happened, he doubted if he was ever going to get the chance to tell him. After they had defeated the Dark Masters everything had gone wrong. They hadn't been able to find a way home, and though Koushiro-kun had come up with another of his brilliant ideas,-- this one to use Myotismon's gate, it hadn't worked out. He figured that the yelling that followed was probably the reason that the group had split up, and he was probably not going to see any of them ever again.   
  
Perhaps it was better; maybe spending time apart had made the others realize how foolish they were to have broken up, but that was wishful thinking. The others were probably happy to be apart, he knew he was. He would rather not be with the group, as it would not result in any show of his true feelings, not break down the mask of complaints that he wore. Being apart was the best.  
  
A lot had happened to them in the Digiworld. There had been many enemies; many times they thought that they weren't going to make it, many time when it had seemed impossible to win. But each time they had persevered, they had fought long and hard. And they had shown with every victory won that they had the right stuff, that they had something that made them the Digidestined, the champions of the Digiworld. They had shown that every obstacle and challenge put against them could be broken through and overcome. They had shown that they were undefeatable, and that they could do anything.  
  
But for what? What did any of those things have anything to do with the situation they were in now? They could defeat any digimon that opposed them, they could win against any foe, but they couldn't keep their group together, they couldn't stay friends, and they couldn't get home.   
  
At first, he would have given anything to get home. He was afraid, weak, pitiful even. But he had gotten stronger, given up his fear, and became a better person. But he still wanted to go home. The years that had passed in the Digiworld steadily grew in number, with each passing day increasing his longing tenfold, and every waking moment spent in realization of the fact that he wasn't going to get home, and he wasn't going to see any of his friends again, either. It was depressing.  
  
Now, he realized, he wasn't going to go home, but he was going to see his friends soon enough.   
  
The scream echoed throughout the forest, jerking him out of his reverie and bringing him back to reality. He knew it was a human, after being in this damn world for so long, he could tell the difference, but he noted, sadly, it had been so long since he had seen any of them, he couldn't tell who the voice belonged to. It was far, he could tell that much, and he wasn't going to reach that area any time soon, but he figured that it would at least be a distraction, and it would eat up some of the never-ending time. He started to make the journey.   
  
He was absorbed in memories again, but this time, not for very long. Another scream, much louder than before, and sounding tortured, pierced the air. It was Matt, and in that instant, he understood what had happened. TK must have been the one to scream, and Matt must have just found him. TK was almost definitely dead, given the sound of his scream, and Matt's. And if TK was dead, then Matt would almost surely... No, best not to think about such things. If he thought about them, he would lose what little hope he had left. But now, as he walked, he realized that he wasn't going to reach wherever Matt and TK were before night fell, and he didn't think that it would be wise to try and find the place in the dark, where he was more likely to get lost. And though it went against every instinct in his body, he set up camp for the night, dreading what he was going to find tomorrow.   
  
He awoke, surprised that he had fallen asleep and immediately set out to find Matt and TK. It took some time, but he soon realized that he had lost his way. He was beginning to think that he was never going to find the place when he heard one more scream, Matt again, more tortured than before, and most definitely hopeless. It wasn't far. He hurried, the dread in him reawakened, and soon he came upon a clearing. In it he saw two bodies, one that of a young man, who was TK, undoubtedly, and the other,... it was Matt. He understood what had happened. TK had somehow died and Matt, without anyone to care for anymore, without anyone to worry about, had ended his own life. He stood there, too shocked to move, when suddenly, another person appeared. He knew it immediately, it was his Koushiro-kun! He stood there, not wanting to move, just wanting to savor the moment. Then of course, another bad thing happened.  
  
Koushiro ripped the laptop he had been carrying with him for the entire time he had been in the Digiworld out of the backpack and dashed it against the ground. He then ripped off the gloves that he had worn the entire time as well. In a stunning moment of clarity, he saw the twin scars on Koushiro's wrists. He realized what Izzy intended to do at that moment, but he was frozen, unable to move, to speak, to do anything to stop Izzy. He picked up a piece of plastic from the ground, and cut his wrists. "I want you to know, I always loved you. I will always love you, now and forever." he whispered. And he could have sworn that for a brief instant, that Izzy had known that he had said that. But it was probably just his imagination. He watched him fall to the ground, next to TK and Matt, an expression of what one could call happiness on his face. But it was laced with undertones of sadness.  
  
And Joe knew, even though he couldn't explain it, that somehow, Izzy was suddenly standing next to him, beckoning him. Joe walked up to the corpse which had been the person he had loved and admired these many years, and picked up the piece of plastic, plucking it from Izzy's now stiffening hand. "I said that I'd love you forever Izzy, and though you might not want this to happen, I do." As he said this, he brought up his other hand and, with one swift movement, broke the plastic shard in two. He placed his hands in his pockets, and walked away. The wind picked up and took the tear running down Joe's face, scattering it in the breeze. "Goodbye Koushiro-kun, I'll always remember you."  
  
And as he walked away, he could almost hear Izzy saying; "I love you too Joe, and though you may not see me, I'll always be here, watching over you. Goodbye Joe."  
  
Dedicated to the memory of Jack H, who will always watch over me. Goodbye Jack.  



End file.
